Let's Run This Town
by Moskovy
Summary: It's been six years since Damian swore to follow the 'no-killing' oath. He's done good by that oath too. And then there's Jason Todd…
1. Part One

**LET'S RUN THIS TOWN **|| _JASON/DAMIAN || _PART ONE

**Title:** Let's Run This Town  
><strong>Universe:<strong> DCU  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Jason Todd/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne (and later onesided!Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne), Tim Drake-Wayne/Dick Grayson.  
><strong>Genres:** Drama, hurt/angst, romance, action.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17 overall; PG-15 this chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own these characters.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> This chapter is mostly Dick/Damian and it might stay that way for another one or two chapters but I'll (hopefully) get to the Jason/Damian parts soon. Also, Damian is sixteen in this.  
><strong>Warnings OVERALL:<strong> Sexual themes, under-age (Again, Damian is sixteen), coarse language, violence, and very screwed up relationships.  
><strong>Warnings for this chapter: <strong>Mild violence and minor crude language.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> It's been six years since Damian swore to follow the 'no-killing' oath. He's done good by that oath too. And then there's Jason Todd…

Reviews are much appreciated!

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><p>The communicator is crackling in Damian's ear.<p>

Grayson's breathing steadily over the sound and Damian imagines the older man's mouth parted slightly with the cool Gotham air swirling past his nose. He can hear his own breath; each inhale and exhale as he scales buildings and lunges from flagpoles. The lights in Gotham are dingy and the moon illuminates most of the streets and few of the otherwise dark alleys. People, despite knowing the dangers of wandering around at this time of the night, bustle and shove past each other to finish whatever business they have and head home.

"It's a typical Gotham evening,"

Dick's voice interrupts the static and Damian feels the corner of his mouth twitch when he hears it and tries to wipe it off on his shoulder when he catches himself in a window's reflection.

"No, it isn't," he pauses, and then adds: "Idiot."

Dick laughs at him. It's a breathy, tired laugh and Damian can hear the flutter of his cape and the wail of an ambulance siren from the other side of the communicator. "You're right. We haven't had to stop a single criminal today."

"Not even a petty bank robbery," the annoyance hangs between Batman and Robin. There's relief laced in there - and worry. It could be nothing – or it could be a very, very big something.

"Should we call it a day?"

"_Idiot_,"

Damian knows that Grayson will translate that as: "Just one more round _then_ we'll call it a day."

* * *

><p>And it's a good day, at least until Damian spots a flash of red and the unmistakable glint of a sniper rifle.<br>The words are out of his mouth before he realises that he's speaking: "The Red Hood."

A heartbeat –  
>Then:<p>

"_Wait_ for me, Robin. I'm on my way."

"Tt! What if we lose him? I'm not risking it, Batman – just hurry up," Damian hears a small noise of annoyance and Dick doesn't even try to argue with him because he knows it's not going to work. The boy sprints across the rooftop; boots making a barely audible _whump_ with each footfall and he skids to a stop at the edge, squinting into the alley below him. Sure enough, he sees the red helmet and the rifle –

The rifle is pointed right at his face.  
>Damian curses.<br>The Red Hood gives him an amiable wave.  
>Then he pulls the trigger.<p>

Damian barely dodges the fast-approaching bullet, cart-wheeling clumsily away and when he twists around, he sees a gaping hole in his cape. Damian grits his teeth and the Red Hood _laughs_.

"I thought you didn't see me," Jason shifts the rifle on his shoulder and Damian imagines the smirk beneath that ridiculous helmet.

"I'm not blind or stupid, Todd,"

"Really? Because I think coming after me, given my reputation, would be considered stupid,"

"Come quietly, Todd, and I'll make sure you get the minimum punishment," Of course, there's no sincerity in the promise and the Red Hood laughs at him again. It's really getting on his nerves.

"You'll have to catch me first, baby-bird,"

"Don't call me-"

But he's already gone; running through the alley into the next _conviently_ empty street. Damian fingers the communicator and follows the Red Hood without so much a second thought. He will not let himself be mocked by that psychotic criminal. "Batman – he's on the run again. Where are you?"

"Robin, stay put. I'm about thirty minutes away. You can't handle him by yourself!"

"Is that a challenge?"

"Robin, you know that's not what I mean,"

But it doesn't matter what Batman is saying anymore. All Damian hears is his blood pumping in his ears and his heartbeat.

_Thdumpthdumpthdumpthdump—_

"Get back here! I will _maim_ you!" Already, he's got his batarangs between his knuckles and he remembers, vaguely, the 'no-killing-especially-if-it's-a-family-member' rule.

When he sees the Red Hood's left hand go up, middle finger raised in a lewd gesture, all logical thought and strict warnings, flies out of his head and he flings the batarangs – hard.

The way the Red Hood's body twitches tells Damian that he came to the conclusion that _Damian really was going to kill him_. Damian lands a hundred metres away from him and he charges while Jason is busy dodging the projectiles. He can hear Batman shouting something in his ear but he doesn't _care_. He's already pulling out the dagger that's hidden in his boot.

That's when the Red Hood, with surprising fluidity, strikes out with his right arm and catches Damian's knife hand. Before the boy can react, there's a knee in his chest and he's coughing and gasping for air. He can feel himself being held up off the ground by his wrist which is quickly losing feeling. There's a voice in his ear; low, rough and scathing. Damian shivers and gasps a little harder when another hand fumbles with his utility belt. "Let's see how well you can play without your little toys."

He hears the slight click of the buckle coming undone and the cold metal slides down his legs until it clatters loudly beneath him. He hears it being kicked away. It skids and scrapes against the concrete before hitting the brick wall across from them.

The communicator is next to go.

"_Jason? [static] Jason, what [static] you doing to Robin?"_

There's no response from the Red Hood except for a chuckle, and the communicator is crushed beneath his boot. When Damian lashes out blindly and his hand hits _something_, the Red Hood drops him abruptly. He lands on the cold ground hard and the wind is knocked out of him once more.

"Fuck you, Todd," is all he can croak out. The oxygen is finding its way back into his lungs and he's finding his way to his feet. "I will kill you. I will kill you slowly and painfully, and I will do it with my bare hands."

"You should know by now not to make promises you can't keep, baby-bird,"

"Don't call me that!" He's snarling and lunging and the Red Hood meets each and every strike with a block and jeering comment:

"Come on, you can do better than that!"  
>"I thought you could kill me in one-hundred different ways!"<br>"Is that all?"  
>"You've lost your touch."<p>

_You've lost your touch_.

What?

What was he trying to say?  
>That Damian wasn't <em>good <em>enough? The he had lost his ferocity?

No, it was still there – that angry burn in his throat; the violent flare in the pit of his stomach. And Damian isn't sure why, but his kick goes wayward and he hears the distinctive crack of a breaking rib and the Red Hood makes a pained grunt.

"I haven't lost anything, Todd," Damian spits when he regains his balance. The Red Hood straightens slowly, body tense, and he reaches up over his head to pull off his helmet. Damian watches him warily and scowls when Jason has the gall to grin as he casts the helmet to the side.

He _grins_ at Damian and says: "I thought you were going to kill. Or don't you want to?"

"Oh, trust me, Todd. I want to."

"Okay, so you want to – but _can_ you?"

Damian gives out an angry cry and raises his fist over head to—

_Crack_.

He doesn't feel his leg give way beneath him at first - only the surreal sensation of falling forward and not knowing what's going on. How did Jason do that? How could he have made a move without Damian noticing? _He's not that good – is he?_

When he hits the ground again, he feels the pain explode from his shattered kneecap and he _howls_.

_Crack_.

His right arm goes icy-cold and numb next, and he hears the sickening sound of his shoulder joint popping out its place. He chokes on his cry and everything _burns_.

"Stop! Fuck – guh-goddammit, Todd!"

And then that voice, that rough, scathing voice, is near his ear again and there's an uncomfortable weight on his bruised chest. "You said you would kill me, baby-bird," there's a hand tracing up his inner thigh. Up and down, up and down. "When was the last time you've killed someone? Five – six years ago?" The Red Hood's hand stops on his shattered kneecap and he _presses_ down until Damian gives a strangled groan. A hand closes around his throat and squeezes. The hand on his thigh has disappeared and the sharp edge of Jason's knife is pushing against his Kevlar-protected side. "Me? I've been in the business longer than you've been alive. Like I said – you've lost your touch, baby-bird. You can maim, maybe. But that's it."

The pressure disappears and the Red Hood straightens over his battered form. "You're not in my league. You never will be. You've lost that bloodlust, y'know? And that's no fun," he pauses dramatically before turning his back on him. "Dickie will be here soon. He'll patch you up."

Jason peers over his shoulder when he's halfway up the dilapidated building not too far away and flashes Damian a toothy grin. "Don't come after me again."

* * *

><p>"-<em>amian...Are you awake?"<em>

Damian only groans in response. He's just _so damn groggy_ he can't bring himself to cough up an answer let alone open his eyes. A shadow shifts over his face and the voice:

"Damian, please – wake up. I-"

So that's who it was. Dick Grayson.

Of course.

Damian almost tuts.

"Damian, if you are awake, c-can you p-please say something?"

Was he _crying_? Damian opens his eyes this time, just so he can glare at the man. He loses focus at first. The white hospital lights have him blinking franticly to stop the sudden well of tears in his over-stimulated eyes. Almost immediately, there's a loud scuffle - a chair scrapping and falling backwards, the creak of his bed when Dick's hands latch franticly onto his bed sheets and heavy breathing.

Suddenly, Dick's face blocks the light above Damian's face and Damian is taken aback by how aged Dick looks. His face is gaunt and drawn, unshaven, and his eyes are bloodshot and tired; rimmed with the obvious purple-grey due to lack of sleep.

"Damian? You – you're awake," Damian rolls his eyes

"Yes," his voice is awkward and hoarse. He clears his throat and the gestures for the water sitting next to him but Dick's already reaching for it. "Yes, thank you, Grayson, for stating the obvious."

"I," Dick flushes and reaches up to pull the oxygen mask off Damian's face so that the boy can down the whole glass of water. "Sorry. It's just been a while. I didn't know how long you were going to be out for."

Damian quirks a brow over the glass, "A 'while'? Define 'a while', Grayson."

"About a week. Honestly, we all thought you wouldn't wake until even later," Dick gives him a watery smile but Damian can him struggling and before he can even think, he's reaching up and cupping Dick's cheek. Dick reacts instantly to the touch, turning his face slightly so his nose bumps Damian's thumb and he places a slow, hard kiss in hollow of his palm. "He broke you so much. When I found you I thought I was too late."

Dick inhales deeply and Damian watches his face carefully. "Why couldn't you just stay put and wait when I told you too?"

"Because," Damian pulls away but Dick catches his wrist and kisses his palm again; breathing in his scent. Damian sighs. "Because who knew what he was planning. I _had _to go after him. I-" He pauses and squints at Dick. "What happened to Todd, anyway?"

Dick makes a pained expression. "We've been out, every day and night, looking for Jason. We're trying so hard to find him." He finally lets Damian's hand drop from his face and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "But I mean, once a Robin, always a Robin. He's too good; even for Tim. He can't even pick up a trail."

"Tt! Well, you two better find him first because once I'm up, I'm going to hunt him down and I swear to you, Grayson, I will _kill him_," Dick smiles again, but this time, it lights up his face and he leans over to place his lips on Damian's. Damian grunts but pushes up into the kiss.

"Thank God you're awake," Dick says quietly against his mouth and Damian kisses him again to shut him up. He feels Dick smirk and his hand pushing him gently back down into his pillows. "Get back to sleep, okay? I have to go back out on patrol. I'll visit you tomorrow."

"I've been asleep for a _week_," Damian growls as he watches Dick saunter out the hospital room, and halting a nurse in her tracks to inform her that Damian had woken up. He huffs and glares, eyes not leaving the door until Dick had disappeared completely from view and the sounds of his squeaking shoes had finally faded out.

Only then does he allow himself a pleased, little smirk and reach for the card and small kitten plush Dick had left discretely on his bedside table. "_Idiot,"_


	2. Part Two

**A/N:**_IT HAS BEEN REWRITTEN_! This chapter is mostly Dick/Damian and it might stay that way for another one or two chapters but I'll (hopefully) get to the Jason/Damian parts soon. Reviews are much appreciated!

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><p><strong>II.<strong>

It's another week, much to Damian's chagrin, before he's out of the hospital.

He knows that it's only thanks to his mother's doctors and surgeons that he's even up and walking at all. Though his mother had made it clear to him that his decision to stay as Robin would make him an enemy of the Al Ghul household, the news of Damian's injuries had reached Talia Al Ghul's ears and she had coming rushing to her son's aid. Yet despite being on the successful path of recovery, Dick had Damian stay back at the manor to continue recuperating. Damian had argued with his partner up until Dick had donned the cowl and sped out of the cave, and though deep down he knew not to push his limits, the constant reminder of his loss to the Red Hood drove him into frenzy.

So that's why he's down here in the cave, training.

Just him, the cave and the training dummy.

"Raaaaagh!"

The dummy has a picture of Jason Todd's face pinned to it.

Damian's sword is sticking almost comically out of the side of its neck.

The boy tugs on the sword handle and give a frustrated grunt when the blade refuses to slide out of the wood. He's torn between feeling proud with the strike and feeling angry that he can't pull it out. He considers, for a moment, calling Pennyworth down to help him but he remembers promising the butler that he would refrain from strenuous exercise in exchange for his weapons and tools that Dick had hidden away so that Damian wouldn't get it into his head to follow him on patrol.

The thought has crossed his mind a few times but for now, his attention is focused solely on his imbedded blade; one foot placed on the dummy's torso and the other planted on the training mat. He pulls once, twice, and lets his hands drop on the third turn.

He settles with feeling angry.

"I hate being stuck down here," he tells the dummy with Jason's face. "It's boring and stupid and it's your fault," He strikes the picture of Jason's face with his fist and ignores burst of pain in his knuckles. "It's _your_ fault," he repeats with more venom. The dummy says nothing and Damian wonders what the hell he's doing.

Damian rubs his knuckles; face scrunched into a scowl. Jason's face continues to leer at him. "I don't even know what Father sees in you," he keeps talking to the picture. He doesn't know why. A small, niggling voice at the back of his mind tells him that he looks ridiculous. It chides him for talking to himself. He ignores it and snatches the picture off the dummy. The paper rips, leaving the top corners still pinned firmly. The dummy is faceless without the printed copy of the photograph and Damian turns away from it. "I don't know why Drake thinks it's a good idea to keep busting your sorry ass out of jail," the boy pauses, then continues in solemn tones. "Tt. It doesn't matter. I'll find you, and I don't care what Father or Drake says – you're dead to me."

Dropping the picture to the ground, Damian steps on it carelessly. The paper crinkles soundlessly under his bare feet. Closing his fists around his sword that was still stuck in the dummy again, Damian inhaled and exhaled deeply, calming himself. The hilt is uneven but the grip allows him to hold it firmly. Inhale. Exhale. He shuts his eyes and with a single sharp tug, the blade loosens from the wood.

He stumbles back a step but he straightens himself quickly. The sword is in his hand and the dummy sways a little. There's a feeling of triumph and tiredness that makes Damian feel lightheaded. There's impatience and anticipation mixed somewhere in there too.

The feeling stays with him even as he kicks Jason's picture to the side and flops irately to the mat and welcomes the abyss of sleep.

* * *

><p>"Damian? I thought you were resting."<p>

"I was," the teen jerks his head towards the spot he had fallen asleep. "I got bored. You know, you can't keep me cooped up forever, Grayson."

"I know that,"

"Just one night, Dick – _please_,"

Dick groans and smacks a palm to his face. Was Damian _kidding_ him with those eyes?

"Just one night, Damian,"

"So how does it feel to be back in the uniform?"

Damian snorts but only because his answer is somewhere along the lines of _it feels perfect _– this_ feels perfect_ and he doesn't want his Batman's getting a big head. He gives Dick a sideways glance and the man is grinning like he knows exactly what Damian is thinking.

It's only for one night. Damian knows he won't last a whole week in his state. Already he feels the weight of sleep on his eyelids.

But it doesn't matter. It won't stop him. He's too in love with the wind carrying his cape, the sullied streets of Gotham lit with flickering lampposts and the cold night air burning his throat.

Damian knows that Dick is too. Maybe not so much with the cape, but more the pain and pleasure that runs through his legs when he jumps and lands, when his hands graze the concrete and metals of Gotham's body. He knows that he's only out patrolling with Dick this night because of the love they and every hero and villain share for Gotham City's dark seduction.

Neither Batman nor Robin wants to head home, even when the first trickle of sunlight finds them and fear of the boogeyman is squashed beneath daily concerns until nightfall. But they know they have to. _Damian_ knows he has to. He's barely awake during the ride back home in the Batmobile though he diligently tries to keep his eyes open by keeping his mouth moving. His sentences fall on his lap all broken and awkward and nonsensical. He feels that maybe Dick is laughing at him but he's not sure if he's dreaming or awake anymore.

"We'll do this again, Damian," Dick says. Or at least, Damian thinks that's what he says. "Don't worry. You're a tough kid. We'll be Batman and Robin again once your kneecap has healed. Fully, I mean. Don't think I didn't notice you limping."

Damian's retort is stuck somewhere between the back of his throat and his half-conscious state. He's in bed before he's even sure his snarky response had actually been said aloud and when Dick kisses him softly on the mouth, he's already fast asleep.

* * *

><p>Two weeks pass. Two weeks of wandering the streets aimlessly, training down in the batcave and helping Dick sort out through criminal records. Damian figures that nothing can be worse than being stuck useless at home.<p>

Dick interrupts him while he's working on one of the many Batmobile prototypes on display in the cave.

"Still working on that?"

"I have nothing else to do,"

"Just sit back. Recuperate. Have you slept at all today?"

"No,"

"At least get a few hours, Damian,"

Damian looks up from the tire he's readjusting and glares at Dick. "Then when will you let me patrol with you?"

When Dick sighs and rubs the back of his neck and smiles in his sheepish, boyish way, Damian knows the answer.

"I let you go out on patrol with me last week,"

"Last _week_. Come on,"

"Not until I'm definitely sure that you're okay."

"Fuck you, Grayson,"

"Language,"

"I say what I _want_,"

"Fair enough," Dick sheds his boots and throws his cape over the back of the chair in front of the bat-computer. "But you're still not going out on patrol with me yet."

Opening his mouth to release an onslaught of verbal abuse, the sixteen year old just manages to stop the words when Alfred Pennyworth appeared at the bottom of the stairs that led to the batcave. Damian acknowledges the promise he's made to Pennyworth about swearing in front of the proper man. He's made a whole lot of promises to Pennyworth, now that he thinks of it. He considers cutting back on the promises on his brusque manners but then he remembers how damn frightening the butler is when it suits him, and Damian reasons that he can live without cursing in front of Pennyworth.

Alfred spares him a knowing look and Damian tries to keep his face indifferent until the butler shifted his cool gaze to Dick Grayson. "Good evening, Master Dick," he says primly. "Patrol was successful, I take it?"

"Yeah," Dick handed his boots, utility belt and cape to Alfred with a white-toothed grin. "It was pretty quiet, actually."

Alfred hesitates and neither Damian nor Dick miss the tentative expression that flashes across his face. "No news on Master Jason, then?"

Dick's smile fades into a somber line. "Actually, Tim thinks he's found something,"

Damian moves away from the car completely now and moves to stand beside Dick. "What did he find?" he asks. The anticipation is back and so is the impatience and lightheadedness.

Dick shakes his head. "I don't really know. He said to give him a few hours. Tim's suspicious about whatever he's found. Reckons that Jason's planning something big and he definitely wants us to be there when it happens."

"When _what_ happens," Damian groans. "It doesn't matter. We have to look for him and stop him _now_."

"I know," Dick runs a hand over his haggard face. "Give Tim some time, alright? I want to see if I can have a nap before Tim calls again."

"Shall I draw you a bath then?" Alfred looks expectantly at Dick and the younger man shakes his head. "No thanks, Alfie."

"Very good, sir," And with that, the butler strides back upstairs without so much as a second glance backwards.

Dick waits until Alfred draws Damian in for a chaste kiss and pulls away before Damian can kiss back. Damian makes a kitten noise at the back of his throat and tries to lean forward again. "You can join me in bed, if you want," Dick offers and Damian wonders if the looks Dick's giving him is supposed to be seductive. Damian looks at him wryly. "I just woke up,"

Dick throws his head back and gives a loud exaggerated sigh. Damian snorts, tracing his fingers up and down the smooth column of Dick's throat. "Get some sleep, Dick, you need it," he kisses the corner of his Batman's mouth.

"Alright, fine," he tries one more time. "I'd sleep better with you though."

Damian swats him.

When Dick finally decides to retire upstairs, he stops and picks up the torn picture of Jason. He looks questioningly at Damian; one long brow cocked handsomely, bottom lip poking out in a subtle pout. Damian gestures towards the dummy and Dick laughs. "Don't hate him," he shakes his head and Damian looks at him, bewildered. Dick waves the picture. "Don't hate him," Dick repeats solemnly. "Bruce didn't. I don't."

"Even after what he did to me?" Damian challenges. Dick pauses; uncertainty stains his tired face. Then he nods.

"Why?"

There's a pause but no answer.

Dick tries to keep his face straight but his shoulders sag visibly.

Damian takes the picture from Dick and crumples it in his hands.

* * *

><p>The phone call from Tim came very early the next morning.<p>

Damian was already in his own bed, carried there by Alfred when he found the boy sleeping on the training mat again. Dick fumbles for the sleek new mobile phone that Damian had made him buy to keep up appearances; almost dropping it in the process. Rubbing his eyelids between his thumb and forefinger, Dick presses the answer button on the screen with clumsy, half-asleep fingers. Tim's voice crackles tiredly through the speakers.

"Dick? Sorry, I know it's early."

"Tim, when you said a few hours, I thought you meant you'd call me in the morning or something."

"It is morning, Dick."

"It's four in the morning, Tim."

"Whatever. It's morning. Do you want to hear about what Jason left behind or what?"

Dick swings his legs over the side of the bed. His heavy blankets slide off him, baring his legs and naked torso the cold air. Shivering, Dick wanders almost instinctively to Damian's bedroom and peers in to see the exhausted boy sprawled across his bed. Moving away from the doorframe and making his way down to the kitchen, Dick sighs into the phone. "What'd he leave? Anything traceable?"

"Not traceable like you want," Tim says cautiously and then stifles a yawn. Dick makes up his mind to chide Tim about not getting enough sleep by the end of their conversation. "But the crowbar thrown through my window has Jason's fingerprints all over it and blood drops to boot. There was a map tied to it and there was a building circled in red with a little smiley face next to it. It's got today's date too. I'm not sure if it really is Jason, but –"

"It'd be best to check it out," Dick smiles though he knows Tim can't see him and waves to Alfred who steps into the kitchen after him. He must have heard Dick get up. "Yeah, I got. Thanks Tim. Give me the co-ordinates, and if you want, we'll meet you there? Unless you have something else up,"

"I have a drug bust a little bit away from there, but if I have time, I'll catch up with you guys. When are you heading off?"

"As soon as I get something to eat,"

"How's the badger?"

Dick snorts. "Damian? He's good. He's much better now," he scratches his chest and nods when Alfred holds up a pot of coffee inquiringly. "Actually, he _is_ probably well enough to patrol with me. I've just been worried."

"You really should let him back out," Tim yawns again. "He's like us, Dick. Too in love with the city; too addicted to fighting crime. Too much like Bruce."

"Tim…"

"Who's that you're talking to?"

"Good morning," Dick says, surprised. Damian curls up against his side and gives a little hum of pleasure when Dick runs his fingers through the boy's hair. "When'd you get in here?"

"I'll call you back," Dick almost sees Tim bristling at the sound of Damian's voice. "Tell me if you find Jason, okay?"

"Sure. Hey," Dick says hurriedly before Tim can hang up. "Get some sleep okay?"

"Yeah, okay. See you later,"

_Click._

Dick sighs then turns back to Damian. The boy looks at him curiously and Dick downs the coffee that Alfred hands to him. "How do you feel about going out on patrol today?"

* * *

><p>There's a horribly giddy sensation in Damian's stomach and it reminds him of his very first official night of patrol with Dick, six years ago.<p>

Damian studies his mentor, partner, and lover – his Batman - from the other side of the cave. He knows the words that are about to topple out of his lips. He knows the grin, the nonchalant shrug and inviting wink that will follow.

"Ready to go, Boy Wonder?" And Damian doesn't _know_ why Dick bothers to ask him when he _knows_ Damian is more than fit for duty.

"What do you think, Grayson?" Damian snaps, pulling his gauntlets up just short of his elbow. He looks down briefly to adjust the utility belt sitting snugly around his waist and is taken off guard when Dick's arm is suddenly snaking around his chest and his hand is trailing down his lower back.

"I think," Dick says slowly, teeth flashing dangerously against Damian's neck. Damian shivers. "I think you look pretty damn good."

And suddenly Damian and Dick are all tongues and gasps and kisses and hard touches. There are hands bruising hips, nails trailing necks, teeth scraping lips, and air leaving lungs. But there's sweetness too. There's a breathed, "_Don't stop,"_ and a whispered,

"_I love you."_

Sometimes Damian can't help but notice the same things when Dick is fighting – hands bruising, nails trailing, teeth scraping, air leaving lungs but _never, ever killing. _There's a lingering apology with every blow, with every breath. Sometimes when Dick is angry, there is no remorse - just barely controlled fists and feet and arms and legs, and Bruce's voice clogging up his thoughts; jumbling his memories. Damian notices.

He notices especially how opposite Batman and the Red Hood are on the battlefield when they butt heads a second time with Jason Todd.

They're not five minutes out of the batcave when an explosion turns the sky overhead a soupy red. Dick's mouth tightens around the edges and his eyes narrow behind the white-out lenses. "Dammit."


	3. EXCERPT

**HEY GUYS THIS ISN'T ACTUALLY AN OFFICIAL UPDATE, BUT AS A SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO POST THE THIRD CHAPTER, HERE'S AN EXCERPT FROM ANOTHER UPCOMING CHAPTER. EXPECT UPDATES BY THE END OF THIS MONTH AND THROUGHOUT NEXT MONTH. ALSO, CHAPTER TWO WILL HAVE ADDED SCENES SOON SO KEEP AN EYE FOR THAT UPDATE TOO. THIS EXCERPT WILL ONLY BE UP UNTIL THE THIRD CHAPTER IS UPLOADED. SORRY FOR THE WAIT GUYS, AND THANK YOU FOR STICKING AROUND.**

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><p>Jason is two seconds away from leaping off a ten-storey building.<p>

Usually it's no big deal and he can clear the gap between this building and the next with no problem.

He always has a great running start and his eyes are _always_ on target so the moment his right foot touches the edge of the building, all he has to do is push off hard and the next thing he knows, he's _flying_and landing_perfectly_ – just the way Bruce taught him. It's practically a reflex.

Now he's one second away from leaping.

His foot is lowering and he's tensing for the jump, and –

"Todd!"

He slips.

His right foot sails over the edge and _oh crap, I'm gonna fall, aren't I_, is the only thing his brain manages to process before his left knee collides with the edge of the rooftop, making him choke, and his upper body lurches over the gap until he finds himself plummeting into the alleyway below.

_Crap — Okay, Jason, get a grip. You've got this. Remember the training_.

Jason twists in mid-air, fumbling for the grappling gun fixed securely to his belt and fires. He's not quite sure if he even aimed properly so when he hears a metallic _thunk_ and the rope goes taut so suddenly he feels like his arm is about to be pulled out of its socket, he's relatively relieved.

"Todd?"

It's that voice again and Jason feels like he's never wanted to shoot anyone more than whoever the hell owns that voice. Jason only grunts in response and he's _sure_ that whoever it is can wait until he reaches the ground. He assumes that whoever it is, is someone he's close to otherwise they wouldn't be calling him by his last name. Jason runs through a list of people who know his name and is a _male_.

Bruce would never call him 'Todd'.

Dick wouldn't either.

Neither would Alfie.

Tim doesn't even talk to him.

So that leaves –

_What's his name again?_

"Baby-bird, is that you?"

"Don't call me that!"

The moment Jason's feet touch the ground he turns to face the scowling sixteen year old and he wonders _how the hell did he get down here so fast?_ "It _is_you. You almost killed me, you know. I hope you're happy, you little shi-"

"Don't be such a drama queen," Damian interrupts and his scowl deepens when Jason gives him a melodramatic look. "I just wanted to talk. It's not like I pushed you off the building."

"That's not the poi- okay, whatever. What the hell do you want?"


End file.
